


End Game

by Wulfykins



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Whump, Beating, Blood and Violence, Dark, Death, Depressing, Hurt No Comfort, John Whump, Original Character Death(s), Strangulation, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wulfykins/pseuds/Wulfykins
Summary: Greed and overconfidence came at a price higher than Dutch Van der Linde could afford to pay.Warning: this is a very dark and depressing story, read at your own risk.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955245
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34





	End Game

He failed. One poorly planned job after another, this time it would cost them dearly.

Dutch closed his eyes, wished he never had to open them again. Sadly that would be impossible for his ears. There was nothing he could do to drown out those horrible screams as Colm O'Driscoll and his band of degenerates beat the ever living shit out of his sons. One after the other.

 _'I'll rip them apart while you watch. One by one.'_ Colm's threat resonated in his mind.

Fifteen heavily armed men surrounded them. He was the only one left sitting on his knees with his hands bound behind him. To his left and right, Arthur, John and young Lenny had been left hogtied on the ground.

How could his plan have gone so wrong?

It was John's turn for the next beating as they dragged him away from their line-up. He wanted to scream at them, beg them to stop. He had tried to exchange his own life for theirs, sadly Colm had no ears for his pleas. 

The method Colm used to keep him silent was to keep his oldest friend sat opposite of him. If he called out, made any noise at all, the older man would be beaten. And beaten Hosea had been. A younger looking piece of shit O'Driscoll stood next to his older friend. The little shit eagerly waited for his next chance to land yet another vicious kick against Hosea's side.

Hosea remained unfazed by their actions against him. Kneeling as straight up as he could manage while his lungs fought for air. Their eyes had met many times since this nightmare started, but never had Dutch seen even a hint of fear in the older man's eyes. Only determination, hope and encouragement that they'd somehow make it out of this. A facade from the greatest con-man he had ever known. 

How had he been so blind to walk his family into a trap?

A muffled groan came from his right, he knew it was Arthur. Even while they had been surrounded by all fifteen of them, his strongest fighter had still resisted them with every fiber in his body. It took six of them to keep him down and one of the bastards had plunged a knife deep into his side. Still he kept yelling and screaming at them, even bit a finger off at one point. Which is why he had been the only one who they had gagged. The now blood soaked cloth kept his pained noises down to a minimum as he slowly bled out on the ground next to him. It was a miracle he hadn't passed out after the beating he had received. Colm, the bastard, had chosen his oldest son to be the first. 

The men had taunted Arthur, spat on him as boot after boot connected with all parts of his body. Anger filled but muffled cries soon turned to weak grunts as they continued to pummel him. When Arthur stilled, Colm ordered his men to stop. They lifted him and unceremoniously dropped him on the ground next to Dutch.

Oh Arthur. I'm so sorry my son.

Tears welled up in his eyes. It was hard to look at John as the men smashed their boots against his chest so many times until the soft cracking of bones could be heard. John had kept his eyes closed in a pained expression. If only they weren't, then maybe he could do for John as Hosea had done for him. Feed him an expression filled with false hope, let him know that they were in this together. If only he could.

Again the bastards laughed and taunted a bound man as they beat him.

Cowards.

John cried out when they lifted him and threw him to the ground next to Arthur.

Dutch couldn't take his eyes off of him. The youngest of his oldest sons. He foresaw a bright future for the young outlaw. The only one of their group to have been blessed with marriage and a child. He had imaged them living a peaceful life on a ranch somewhere. The dream shattered as soon as a horrid crimson liquid spurted out of John's mouth. The young outlaws coughs sounded weak and pain filled. 

I'm so very sorry my son.

A hand cupped his chin. Rough and dirty, it was the hand of his oldest rival.

Colm forced their eyes to meet while he sported that nasty lopsided grin of his. It was hard to not lash out. A headbutt, some obscenities, anything to show is contempt with more than a scowl on his face.

“So quiet old friend, ain't got nothing to say?”

Dutch grit his teeth together. Bastard knew damned well he couldn't speak while one of his goons loomed over Hosea.

Colm craned his neck to follow Dutch's gaze. “Right, I did tell ya to keep quiet or else.” He let go of Dutch's chin and walked over to a kneeling Hosea. 

“Think I'd rather hear you beg for mercy again.” Colm said as he unholstered his gun and pressed the barrel against Hosea's temple.

Dutch's eyes widened. Next to him he heard Arthur's muffled pleas. The man trashed around and fought against the ropes around his limbs. 

“Colm, don't, I'll give you money, anything dammit.” Dutch pleaded.

Colm burst out in laughter. “I've got more money than you'll ever see my friend, especially after I tear your precious gang into pieces. This is for all those years you've been a dagger in my side, ain't nothing going to stop this. But do keep trying, it's oh so enjoyable.”

“I'll be nice and give ya a chance to say your goodbyes.” Colm cocked the hammer back.

Dutch's heart pounded in his chest. Never before had he been faced with the reality of their life as outlaws as he had now. Beaten, broken, on their knees before this cruel man. 

_'Say your goodbyes.'_

How? How do you do that when you have but a fraction of time to go over decades of memories?

Impossible.

“It's been quite the adventure old friend.” Hosea said with tears in his eyes and a faint smile on his face.

Of course his oldest friend found the right words. He had to say something in return, anything. They were past the point where could lie and say they would okay. They wouldn't be. This was it; their end game.

“Hosea I-” Dutch flinched when a gunshot rang out. Birds vacated the nearby trees as Hosea's lifeless body fell sideways.

Decades of companionship wiped out in just a second. Never again would they chat about the old times, about a book he read or the next swindle they had planned.

Never again.

I'm so sorry old friend.

To his right Arthur had been screaming into his gag as he trashed around. Desperate to free himself and go on a murderous rampage. 

He turned his head towards him. John was still, his breathing no more than ragged gasps as he stared at Hosea's body with a look of utter horror on his face.

“Damn you Colm, damn you to hell.” He spat.

What kind of man would make their sons watch as their surrogate father was murdered before them?

“Don't be so-” Colm was taken aback when Lenny had managed to free himself and immediately lunged for Colm. It had only taken the boy a few steps to be right on top of him, he tackled the man and sent them both crashing to the ground. 

“You killed him you monster, you killed him!” Lenny shouted as his fist collided with Colm's jaw.

Unfortunately Lenny had only managed to land one hit before he was dragged off by two O'Driscoll's. They held him between them. The boy almost managed to break free and attack Colm again, but they strengthened their hold on him. 

Colm got to his feet and prodded his lower lip. He checked his finger for blood before he raised his head, eyes narrowed at young Lenny. Without a word he unsheathed his knife and stepped closer. 

Arthur went into another frenzy. He'd been bleeding out with a blade buried in his side but still his spark was as bright as ever. Determined to fight until his last breath.

“Colm, please, he's just a boy, please just kill me. You're here for me.” Dutch begged.

“He should'a thought about that before he attacked me. I was going to make it fast like the old man. But now I think not.” Colm snarled as he used his sleeve to wipe the blood from his lower lip.

A muffled scream erupted in Arthur's throat as Colm plunged his knife into Lenny's stomach. Both guards let go off the boy after a few seconds and snickered when he fell to his knees.

Dutch could do nothing but watch as Lenny attempted to pull it out with shaking hands. Again he was at a loss for words. He always prided himself with the ability to talk himself out of any situation. But not this time, nothing he said would convince Colm to listen.

It was useless, he was useless.

“S-screw y-you.” Young Lenny glared up at Colm. The boy still tried to pry the knife out, his strength weakened further as the seconds went by.

“Save your breath for dying, boy.” Colm used his foot to push Lenny over, smirked as the boy fell on his side with a quiet grunt.

Lenny was brave, eager to learn and book smart . Dutch remembered all the times they had discussed a passage from whichever book he was reading at the time. Every conversation a more pleasant experience than the previous. That was in the past now. Ripped away as he was forced to watch. Watch while the far too young man slowly succumbed to inevitable death from what they all knew to be a mortal wound.

“Tell ya what, we'll play a little game so you can't say I'm unfair.” Colm stepped closer to the last three of the bound men and stopped in front of Arthur. He kicked the man against his uninjured side to get his attention.

“If you can crawl over there and touch his face, I'll put a bullet in his head. If you fail then we'll watch as the life slowly drains out of the boy's eyes.” Colm grinned.

“Go on, show my boys the might of the great Arthur Morgan.” Colm prodded Arthur's side again.

“Colm you piece of-” Dutch groaned as one of the men behind him smacked his back with the butt of their rifle and told him to shut up.

Arthur wasted no time and did his best to slither forward, no easy feat while being hogtied. He groaned and grunted as he attempted to close the distance. But what was only a few steps would be an eternity for a man bound and weakened as he'd surely be by now.

The O'Driscoll's goaded him with their vile words. Every time he paused for a breath through just his nose they laughed. As if they could do what he did, all of them combined weren't even half the man his oldest son was... is.

Those bastards.

“Come on Morgan, just a bit further.” Colm leaned down and gripped the knife in Arthur's side, he twisted it around until it elicited a guttural scream from it's victim. “That should motivate ya.”

Come on son, you can do it. You're the strongest man I've ever known. He wasn't sure why he remained silent. Not because of the men behind him. He just thought his words wouldn't be helpful or fall on deaf ears. Words. He had none left. No, that was a sorry excuse for the fear which attacked him from the inside. He had to let Arthur know he was there for him.

Arthur jerked his body forward, again he was few inches closer to his goal. A few more attempts later and it became evident that his exhaustion rose at an increased rate. Every time he tried to crawl closer he barely moved forward, but he didn't give up. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. Every time his nostrils widened for their next inhale, it sounded like his lungs were on fire.

My son, my spirited son. Don't give up.

“You're close son, you can do it.” Dutch tried to encourage him, uncertain if his son even had ears for his words. But he had to try. Young Lenny seemed to be in absolute agony, the boy no longer attempted to extract the knife. He laid there, unmoving, one hand stretched out towards Hosea. His fingers trembled as if they could bring the older man back to life through sheer willpower. 

Oh you poor boy, you didn't deserve this, not now, not so soon. There was so much you could have done in life. If only your path had never crossed with ours, you'd be out there, building a life of your own. A life which wouldn't lead to you dying in some god forsaken forest clearing. Surrounded by men who only did this not to hurt you. But to hurt a man you so blindly followed towards your untimely death.

Oh Lenny, you should never have followed me.

Arthur was close, very close. He managed one last forward motion and reached his goal. Colm nodded at his men, at his command they dragged him back to where he started from. Arthur hadn't stopped, his breath labored as he forced himself forward again, determined to reach Lenny. His last mission would be to end the boy's suffering and he'd try until the end.

Arthur, my dear boy, you and your unwavering strength.

“You did it son, rest.” Dutch croaked.

Tears welled up in Lenny's eyes when the cold barrel of Colm's gun pressed against his temple.

“I... 'm c-coming.” The boy whispered towards Hosea. His outstretched arm fell limp as soon as Colm pulled the trigger.

Oh Lenny, young Lenny, you deserved better than this.

Colm clasped his hands together. “So, which one of your most favorite sons is next, Dutch?”

His head shot up towards Colm. He had momentarily forgotten that eventually it would be their turn. No, not them, he needed them. They needed him, they trusted him to keep them safe.

How could he have been so stupid? A job which sounded too good to be true was always exactly that. Blinded by greed and confidence he had decided to move forward with it, in spite of the warnings.

Dutch Van der Linde, you fool.

“Colm, anything, I'll do anything, please. Tell me what you want.” He pleaded.

“Told ya friend, we're here to make you suffer, ain't nothing going to change that.” Colm glanced between Arthur and John. “Hmm... who do you favor the most is the question.”

“Bring them here.” Colm ordered.

Both John and Arthur were dragged away from him. They cut the rope which connected their hands to their feet. All this so they could be displayed in front of him, on their knees. Only now could he see how covered in bruises their faces were. How disheveled and afraid they both seemed to be.

Every breath John took sounded more painful than the previous. And poor Arthur with his head lolled forward, the man seemed to have nothing left. All his energy had been spent to grant Lenny a quick death.

His strongest son had given all he had.

“Ya know what, I say we do both of them at the same time.” Colm concluded.

There it was again, the loss for words. For the best probably, everything he had told his boys in the past turned out to be a lie. Promises of a better future for all of them, deceit, a long term con. That was his true skill. Not to be there for them, to guide them, but to deceive them with hollow words. And now that they needed his words the most, he had none left. 

Colm tapped his finger against the top of Arthur's head. “String him up.”

Arthur's head jerked up, his blue eyes widened with a fear Dutch never thought he'd ever see from the man. His son moved forward, fell to the ground as he tried to crawl away, the action easier without being hogtied. He hadn't gotten far before a noose was tightened around his neck, muffled words uttered for nothing.

“Colm.” Dutch warned. “Don't do this, don't touch him, I swear I'll-” 

“You'll what? Build a new gang so I can kill them all over again? Be my guest, friend.” Colm's lips upturned.

He lunged forward but hands on his shoulders held him back, kept him kneeling. Every single obscenity which came to mind fired out of his mouth in rapid succession.

Colm laughed. Of course he did.

The other end of the rope was thrown over a nearby branch, the men pulled on it to drag Arthur towards them. His son gurgled every time he was forced closer. Desperate to escape, his feet dug into the ground. Futile attempts to keep up and stop himself from being strangled before he even swung.

Colm grabbed a fistful of John's hair, leaned in closer to the young outlaws ear and whispered, “say goodbye.”

John's eyes widened, his mouth opened immediately. Whichever words he was about to utter were taken from him as Colm used his knife to slice his young son's throat open.

Colm let go of John and left the man on his knees as he started to suffocate and drown in his own blood. He motioned at his men, with one last pull Arthur's feet dangled in the air as his supply of air was cut off.

“No...” Dutch whispered. His eyes darted between Arthur and John. He didn't know who to console, who to maintain eye contact with. Both his boys were slowly dying in front of him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Neither of them could speak to him either, they each had been robbed of that ability and were left to fight for their last breaths. 

“I'll leave this here for ya.” Colm placed the blood soaked knife on the ground in front of him, patted him on the shoulder and ordered his men to clear out.

Laughter and the thundering sound of hooves faded away as he was left alone. Alone with the dead bodies of his family. His friends, his sons. Dead, all of them. He promised them the world and ended up delivering nothing but lies, pain and an early demise.

Dutch closed his eyes. The tears which had welled up in them now flowed across his cheeks. He failed them. Failed as a leader, a friend, a father. One mistake too many and all of it had been ripped away from him.

Lord have mercy on their souls, but not mine.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry!!! Let me know what you think, good or bad. It would mean a lot to me! <3


End file.
